


Before Broadchurch

by LostinFic



Category: Broadchurch, Secret Diary of a Call Girl (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairing, F/M, Ficlet, Implied Sexual Content, Teninch Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets based on the idea of Hardy meeting Hannah before the event of Broadchurch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He meets her on a crime scene of all places. Drug trafficking in the port of Sandbrook and a Mafioso with a soft spot for a prostitute. She was at the wrong place, at the wrong time and she almost paid with her life.

 

“Thank you… for making sure I get home safely.”

She doesn’t move, remains curled up in the seat.

“Will you be alright?”

“I don’t know… could you come in with me? Just for a minute, I’ll make you a cuppa.”

 

She keeps running her hand up and down her arm. He knows the feeling, when you’re out of danger but adrenaline still courses through your veins. It makes you all jittery until it fades and then you’re more exhausted than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

It’s no surprise she falls asleep. He doesn’t move, doesn’t dare wake her up. Or maybe it’s because he likes her weight against him and the silk of her hair on his cheek.

When he leaves, she gives him her card.

 

He keeps the card in his coat pocket and runs his thumb along the sharp edges. He thinks about her and masturbates in the shower — the highlight of his day.

His wife smiles at the other DS the way she used to smile at him, thirteen years ago.

 

He dials her number and he can’t remember the last time he had butterflies in his stomach.

 

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake, I can’t, I’m married.”

“Can I just ask why you came here, then?”

“… I think she’s having an affair.”

She doesn’t try to console him. He wouldn’t want her pity.

“How long has it been since you’ve had sex with your wife?”

“I didn’t come here for marital counselling.”

“Then why did you?”

She’s half-naked and so very beautiful, he’s got the money and he already lied to come here anyway.

“Could I… just watch?”

It’s a loophole of sorts.

She keeps it simple, no toys or exaggerated moans, he’s that kind of man. She lies besides him and caresses her body, undulating on the bed, under his intent gaze. When she says she’s thinking about him, it’s the truth. He comes on her stomach with a deep groan. He never once touched her.

 

He keeps the card in his coat pocket and runs his thumb along the frayed edges. He thinks about touching her and masturbates in the shower — the highlight of his day.

He fights with his wife and his suspicions are confirmed.

 

When he kisses her hungrily, it’s not out of spite. When he thrusts in her against the wall, it’s not in revenge. When he makes sure she comes too, it’s not to prove a point. It’s nothing but desire. There’s nothing but her. With her, he forgets everything.

“I’d like to see you again.”

She’s the one who says it. 


	2. Chapter 2

When he’s tired of playing pretend for the sake of his daughter, he trades hypocrisy for honesty. Strange how that word comes to mind when thinking of a prostitute.

 

It’s a straightforward affair now. She doesn’t offer him champagne and her satin robe unravels to the floor as soon as the door is closed.

She’s wrapped in mauve lace and there are bows on each side of her knickers. How appropriate.

She spreads her legs for him (and for so many other men). And she arches and aches under his ravenous touch. And she breaks for him (and for him only).

  

Her business card is still in his pocket, worn out and creased, he reaches for it whenever he needs to. Like a lucky charm or a talisman. He was never superstitious but he also never expected life to be so generous with him. Maybe she’s his reward. Maybe he’s hers. Or maybe — like so many things in his life —it’s meaningless. Yet it means everything to him.

“Why do you need a reason for it?”

“So I can keep doing whatever it is that brings you back to me.”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says as she guides him into her.

 Still, he hopes there’s more to it.

  

She’s a key witness in the investigation and she needs to be protected. He sees to it personally, ignoring the knowing looks of his colleagues. She’s so strong yet so fragile, he wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.

  She digs her nails in his wrist and comes on his fingers. In the front seat of the police issued sedan. In the parking lot of the precinct. Then he tucks her hair behind her ear so he can watch what she’s doing.

 The smell of her arousal sticks to him all day.

 He couldn’t stop thinking about her even if he wanted to.     

 

 She calls him sometimes. He thinks that goes against the escort’s code of conduct.

 “There always are exceptions to a rule,” she says.

 “How many exceptions?”

 Greed burns in his guts.

 “Will you come over?”

 When she appears in court, he can’t take his eyes off the red mark on her neck.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“You need to come down to the station before the next court date.”

“Will you fuck me?”

“Only if you ask very nicely.”

He’s getting better at dirty talk.

 

Hardy always closes the blinds when she’s in his office. It’s policy with a witness, more or less (less).

 She plays with his tie and he feels the shape of her corset under the chiffon dress.

“Let me see, just a quick peek.”

Isn’t it always how it starts? But she likes the scratch of his stubble on the delicate skin of her chest.

 

There’s a knock on the door and she meets his wife.

The pang of jealousy is unexpected but the coldness between them soothes Hannah.

If his wife didn’t know before, she must know now.

 

It’s like when you’re a kid and you always want the toy the other kid is playing with, the one you can’t have. Adults are no different. When she kisses him, it’s territorial. When he covers her breasts with his seed, it is too.

She leaves a scarlet stain on his shirt collar. A professional wouldn’t do that.

  

“She wants us to see a marriage counselor.”

“What do _you_ want?”

He kisses her.

That’s hardly an answer.

Just in case, she leaves him something to remember her by. He hopes the scratches down his back will turn to scars.

 

There’s a daughter involved. He’ll do what’s right because he’s a good man. It’s why she likes him. She wishes he wasn’t, wishes she didn’t.

 

 “I can’t see you anymore.”

She’s prepared her heart for it. His words bounce off the icy surface. She could get him back if she really wanted to, but where’s the fun in that? Except it was never just about fun.

 

She starts seeing other clients again.

 

He throws away her business card. It’s symbolic, really. Her phone number is safe in his brain, tucked away with memories of her laughter.

His coat pocket is empty and so are his nights. He starts wanking in the shower again but, even that, he can’t enjoy anymore.

Every glance at her and every brush of her fingers is torment and temptation. He leaves the door to his office opened when she comes by. Better safe than sorry (not that he’d really be sorry).

 

His wife and the other DS are still smiling at each other.

 

One night, Hannah receives a threatening phone call that terrifies her and she has to call that other cop whose number she was given. He doesn’t make her feel safe.

Hardy is at her door as soon as he’s told.

“I should have been there for you.”

He holds her and she doesn’t feel so scattered anymore.

He’s never spent the night before. He falls asleep on the couch and wakes up in her bed and comes in her mouth before making coffee. Then, the coffee turns cold while they’re in the shower. In the pursuit of pleasure, he slips and falls. They laugh about it and breakfast is delayed once more.

 

He starts smiling again.

 

The trial comes to an end and the Mafioso is sentenced to prison for 28 years. She feels like celebrating.

"How?” he asks.

She sits on his desk and puts one foot on each arm of his chair. Her taste makes him light headed.

 

 When he takes her on his desk, the divorce paper stick to her sweaty back.


End file.
